


Oh, Saint Raphael The Archangel

by Monkeygirl77



Series: Grumpy (Sometimes) But Kind Raphael [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A human child living with angels, Abusive Parents, Archangel's charge, Archangels, Because both are here, Healer Raphael (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, I know, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kind Raphael, Neither of them are douchebags, Nice Michael, Or Little One, Raphael's youngest charge, The OC's name is Joshua, They meet in a church, bruises and scars, but im rolling with it, its cliche, not to be confused with Joshua the Gardener, or in this case, we'll refer to little Joshua as Josh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:27:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27709724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygirl77/pseuds/Monkeygirl77
Summary: It's been a long, long time since Raphael's heard a prayer directed solely to him, and especially from one who sounds so young, so naturally, he has to investigate. He does not expect, however, to find himself with a bruised and battered child, asking for him to help his parent, instead of his bruised and battered self. A rather curious thing, indeed.
Relationships: Michael & Raphael (Supernatural), Raphael & OC
Series: Grumpy (Sometimes) But Kind Raphael [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128185
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	Oh, Saint Raphael The Archangel

Little bare feet ran as fast as they could through the thunderstorm raging up above them, splashing through muddy puddles, hopping up the slick marble steps, that lead up to the one place his mind said was safe. Momma had told him that he as always protected in there, with God and His Angels, he was safe with them, he’d always be safe with them, this was where he ran, whenever daddy got mad. He didn’t like it when daddy got mad. Daddy scared him.

Candles flickered lazily behind the stained-glass windows, making the figures painted on them glow, and he paused, to look up at them in awe, they were so pretty, he loved them, it made him feel safe, being surrounded by them, it was like they were watching over him when he sat between them.

Lightning illuminated the silhouette of a small boy standing in the middle of the stairs that lead up to the chapel, staring at the flickering portraits painted on the window, a particularly loud crash of thunder makes him jump, and he turns, continuing his way up.

Little muddy hands slam into the old wooden doors, and he grunted softly as he struggled under the weight of the thick door, as he tried to push it open. Thankfully, the doors were never locked, people were always welcome, at any time of night, and the doors budged just enough for him to squeeze through the small opening, banging softly as they slide shut behind him, as he darted down the aisle, leaving wet footprints on the red carpet, heading for the pews up near the front of the chapel, those were his favorite.

He was safe here, he was protected, that what momma always said, and daddy _never_ came here when he came out to look for him.

Bright green eyes turned to look up at the looming statues, the paintings and portraits, he recognizes a few of them, and the pictures painted on the stain glass windows. It was all so pretty.

“Joshua?” The boy turns to look up at the old voice, his only friend in the world, the only friend for a lonely little boy, the priest leans over the side of the bench, a smile gracing his olden features and his eyes shining with a warmth that makes him feel at home. “What has you here so late, little one?”

Joshua looks down at his hands. “Daddy was mad again.”

“I see,” the old priest never questions him, but he always says he’s there if he ever wants to talk about daddy being mad, and his green eyes return to the man’s blue. “Are you alright?”

He nods slightly. “I’m okay.”

An old wrinkled finger reaches out, touching lightly to the bruise over the side of his face, and he flinches softly when it touches. “What happened, little one?”

Joshua looks down, playing with his fingers, pulling his legs up, he’s small enough, he pulls his feet up too. “Daddy was _really_ mad this time.” He looks back up, meeting his old friends eyes, they shine, like they usually do, but he sees a hint of sadness in them this time. “But, it’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt no more.”

The old priest hums, raising his hand to rest on top of his matted curls, smiling down at him. “Are you here to talk to the angels?”

He nods. “Momma says they always listen. I like talking to them.”

“And, to whom are you praying to this time, child?”

Joshua smiles and points up at the painting that hung on the wall next to him. “Raphael!”

His old friend hums, following his finger up to the portrait, and smiles softly. “And, what are praying to him for tonight, my young friend?”

Silence falls between them, the little boy staring up at the portrait, he has green eyes, just like he does. “To help daddy get better.”

Thunder rumbled in the sky over them, lightning illuminates the painting, making the colors glow in the bright light, for a brief moment.

Joshua looks back to his friend. “Do you think he really hears us?”

The old man looks up as more thunder rumbles high over them, lightning lighting the sky above through the windows, and he smiles softly, looking back down to the boy. “Sometimes, I think he does.”

Joshua smiles up at him, ducking slightly when the old priest pats his wet curls, and bids him a good night, parting from his side, moving off to the other side of the church, leaving him alone to his thoughts, and the thunder rumbling above him. Joshua curled into the pew, little muddy toes digging into the fabric under him, and he played with the fraying edge of the armrest.

Maybe giving papa some time to calm down would be good, he’d stay away for a little bit, daddy liked it when he didn’t bother him, and then things would go back to normal again, daddy wouldn’t so mad anymore, and he wouldn’t be punished again.

“It is not often that I hear a prayer these days, and from one so young no less, tell me, what ails you little one?”

Joshua jumps, squeaking in surprise, at the sound of the sudden voice behind him, and spun around to see who it was. It didn’t sound like daddy, and daddy _never_ came here, so he knows it’s not daddy. He stares, unsure as to what to do or say, no one comes in at this time of night, no one but him, but there, sitting at his side, reclining back against the backrest of the pew, sits a dark toned man, his eyes skimming over the stained-glass windows.

They were true works of art.

He bites his lip harshly, building up his courage, daddy didn’t like it when he spoke, but his curiousness won out. “Who are you?”

The man gives a sigh. “I am Raphael. You called for me.”

Joshua’s eyes widen. “ _You’re_ Raphael?”

The man sitting beside him gives a soft hum, turning to look down at him, and frowns slightly, reaching out to him, he leans back, on instinct, but warm gentle fingers curl under his chin. “That’s quite a bruise, who did this, little one?”

The boy inhales softly, stiffened, and shook his head as much as the gentle grip on his chin would allow. “No one. I fell.”

“I see,” he runs a finger down the length of the bruise, his emerald eyes flitting to his when he shivers, whimpering softly, near silently. “I was not born yesterday, child, this was done by the hand of another, my question is who?”

“Daddy said I was being bad.” The boy averts his eyes, his fingers playing with his little toes, and tugs his chin free from the man’s grip. “He said I had to be punished, because I was being really bad.” He bites his lip for a moment, before look back up, meeting the man’s eyes again. “Are you _really_ Raphael?”

The man smiles slightly. “Last time I checked, that’s who I was.” He nods his head lightly. “What’s your name, little one?”

He smiles. “My names Joshua.”

“God is my Salvation. Fitting.”

The boy tilts his head. “What?”

“That’s what your name means. God is my Salvation.” Raphael looks the boy over critically. “Where is your shoes, little one, your jacket?” He shakes his head lightly. “Running around in this weather the way it is, is almost as if you’re trying to catch yourself a chill.”

Joshua looks back to his feet. “I forgot to get them before I left. Daddy was mad at me. I didn’t want to be there, because he was _really_ mad.”

“I see,” the Archangel watches the boy carefully, taking in every reaction to his acknowledgement of him, the way he shrinks in on himself, the way he averts his eyes, almost as though he isn’t supposed to look up at him, conditioned behavior, trained, taught, he had his suspicions. “You asked for me to come help your father, did you not?” That got him quite the reaction, the boy’s head shooting up, nodding vigorously. He hums softly to himself and stretches an arm across the back of the bench they both rest on. “I need to know how to help him, little one, if I am going to, tell me, what would you like me to do for your father?”

Joshua turned more fully towards him, pulling his knees up under himself, looking up at him with wide hopeful eyes. Little fingers clutched the straps of his jumper, holding on tight, tugging it in anticipation, building up his courage. “You can help him?” He tugs again. “Really, you can make him better again?”

Raphael sighs at the questions, but nods. “Yes, I can help him, what ails him?”

The boy tilts his head. “What?”

“What is wrong with him?”

“Oh.” The child tilts his head slightly, looking down at his hands, releasing his grip on the straps of his jumper, wringing his fingers in his lap. “Can you make him not be so mad at me?”

The Archangel next to him hums softly. “Why is he mad?”

“’Cause momma went away, and it was my fault, that’s why…that’s why he gets really mad at me, because I made momma go away, and he didn’t like it.”

Raphael hums again, nodding lightly, turning to look back at the stain glass window. “And, what does he do when he gets angry with you?”

Joshua shrinks in on himself. “He yells at me.”

“And?”

He tugs in his toes. “And, sometimes he spanks me.”

Joshua stiffens when he sees the man turn just in the corner of his vision, to look back down at him, with his glowing green eyes.

Raphael was many things, but senseless was not one of them, he knew when someone was being honest and when they weren’t. “Do not lie to me, child, I know the difference between discipline and violence, shall we try again?”

The boy sniffles and scoots back slightly. “He hits me. But he says he has to, ‘cause I’m bad, and daddy says he loves me, so that’s why he hits me, to make me not be bad anymore.”

“And, that bruise on your face, did he do that to you?” The only answer he needed to such a question was the silence that was given in return, the boy looking away, the lightning outside the window making the large bruise glow. He hummed lowly, straightened his position, and pushed himself to his feet. “Very well, I’ve decided I _will_ help you, come, little one.”

Joshua lets out a small squeak of fear when a large hand reaches out for him and turns, making to escape, but he was caught up, fingers curling in the back of his jumper, lifting him up off the bench, off his feet. The body he’s settled against is warm and an arm curls under him to keep him from falling from his new perch.

He watched him, silently, as he took a deep breath, the air around him shimmering, and his clothes gave way to flowing robes, his little toes twitched slightly at the softness of the fabric as it rubbed against his feet.

“Are we going to help daddy?”

Six large emerald wings flared widely from the man’s back and he’s stuck silent in awe at them.

Raphael flexes and rolls his shoulders, flaring his wings wide, before tucking them in, turning to look down at the boy resting on his arm. “There is no helping your father, I apologize, he is beyond even my help. But you are not, so I will help you.” He curls a hand around the side of the boy’s head, pulling him down to rest on his chest, to keep him from being hurt from the change in wind speed, as he opened his wings, bent at the knee, and rocketed them up, using his grace to phase through the roof of the chapel. He wills the rain to leave them unaffected, not that it does much good, the boy’s _already_ soaked, but he digresses, watching above them as they soar higher and higher, the boy tucked safely in his arms.

The child shivers as they break through the barrier between their two dimensions, and he pats his cheek, before removing his hand completely.

Heads turn below them, at the sight of the Healer streaking through the sky above them, hands raising in salute and greeting, he only has one focus though, one person, the one standing in the Garden, tending to a rose bush, who looked up when the Archangel landed softly just a few paces away from him.

“An Archangel, and the Healer no less, in these parts.” The Gardener’s eyes shine with humor as he turned away from his rose bush to greet him. “To what do I owe the honor?” His eyes moves from his old guardians to the child in his arms, the _living_ child, and his snippers fall to the grass under him. “A living one, what is he doing so far from his own kind?”

Raphael looks down at the boy hiding in his shoulder and back up to his old charge. “I need someone I trust to watch over him while I deal with a highly concerning matter and there is no one I trust more then you.”

He nods. “What is his name?”

The Archangel’s lips quirk into a smile of amusement. “Joshua.”

Joshua, the Gardener, smiles in the same amusement, and nods lightly. “You seem to have quite a fondness for boys with that name.”

“Keep teasing me and you’ll see just how deep that fondness runs, Gardener.”

He gets a soft chuckle for his threat, and he bends to set the boy on his feet, little Joshua latches onto the front of his robes, hiding behind his new friend’s leg. He liked to they were friends anyway, he didn’t have very many, but Raphael had been nice to him, so he assumed they were.

The Archangel above him hums in amusement, resting a hand on his head. “We are indeed friends, little one, you still stay here for a short while, I have something I need to tend to, I will come for you when I am finished.”

Joshua, the older Joshua, holds a hand out to him. “Come, let’s see what sorts of fruits we can find.” The little one looks up at the Archangel cautiously, and when he nods down at him, he steps out from behind him, reaching up to take the other’s hand, his fingers are warm as they curl around his. The Gardener smiles at him from over his shoulder, leading little Joshua away, they’ll be fine.

…

Joshua picks at the mud started to flake on his toes, looking up to the kind Gardener, he’d let him pick some strawberries, they were really yummy, he’s never had strawberries before. “Is he really going to come back?”

The Gardener smiles at him, looking at something over his head, and nods lightly. “I think he will.”

Joshua squeaks lightly when fingers curl under his arms and lift him up off the grass, he was settled back on his perch that was the Archangel’s arm and smiles up at him.

“I told you I would be back for you, didn’t I?” Raphael returns his smiles, fluttering his fingers over the boy’s small belly, enticing small childlike giggles from him. “You could do with a good scrubbing, little one, you’re covered in mud, and there’s no way in Heaven and Earth you are sleeping in my bed as filthy as you are.”

“Sleep?”

“Yes, little one, you need your sleep.” He brushes a finger over his nose. “Everyone needs their sleep.”

Joshua rubs a finger over the collar of his robes. “I can sleep with you?” He looks up to meet his friends eyes. “Daddy doesn’t like it when I sleep with him, he says I’m a big kid now, and that only little babies sleep with their momma and daddies, and he yells at me to get out, so when I get scared, I sleep outside the door, but I have to make sure I go away before he wakes up, or daddy gets _really_ mad.”

The Gardener frowns mutely at the implications of that statement.

Raphael sighs softly. “Well, from your height and weight, I’d say you were around five or six years of age, that’s most certainly still makes you a little one, and I am not your father, if you wish to sleep with me, you are welcome to, my bed is more then big enough for the both of us.”

The boy looks up at him with wide green eyes, they’re near the same shade as his own are, he muses, very curious. “You mean it?”

“I would never lead you wrong.” He smiles down at the boy. “Friends don’t do that.” He pokes him in the belly lightly. “But, before you even think about sleeping in my bed, you need a bath.”

The little one nods silently, looking back to his collar, and Raphael smiles, turning his attention to the Gardener. “Joshua, would you mind?”

“Not at all.” The Gardener rises from his place seated on the soft grass. “The hot springs are for all who desire to use them.”

He smiles in appreciation, and they part ways, the Gardener to return to trimming his rose bushes, and the Healer to get his new little charge bathed.

They made their way slowly through a small bunch of trees, cresting on the other side, there’s numerous little steaming pools, crystal clear water, the perfect place to bath a skittish young one, bathing in him his Infirmary would be a tad bit overwhelming, the boy is timid around new people, and he doesn’t want to cause more harm by forcing it upon him.

Joshua clings onto him for dear life, when they come to stand by a small spring, fearing that his only other friend would leave him once he’s set down, and the Archangel cradles the back of his head, holding him close, whispering soft words of reassurance in his ear.

After a few long moments, the boy nods slightly, uncurling from around him, and allows him to set him down on his feet.

He kneels, caressing his other cheek, not wanting to irritate the bruised one. “It’s alright, little one, I will not leave you, let get you stripped and into the water.”

Raphael tried not to let his temper flare, lest he scare the poor child, when he helps him unbuckle the straps on his overalls and shimmy out of his jumper, revealing the bruises from the abuse the boy has suffered, some fading, some fresh, like the large bruise on the side of his face, climbing from the bottom curve of his cheek to just under his eye, scars from lashings, some fresh, some long since healed, leaving behind raised scars, whippings, from a father who called it love.

He doubted this child knew what _real_ love was.

Joshua whimpers at the sight of the fresh colored bruises and curled his little fingers around those of the Archangel who said he could help him.

He brushes a finger over a particularly deep one over the child’s ribs. “These hurt just a bit, don’t they?”

The little one nods. “Daddy was really, _really_ mad today.” Looking up at his angel friend with wide watering eyes, the Healer’s soft thumb rubs away a tear as it slips free, curling his fingers around the boy’s cheek soothingly. “Don’t shed a single tear for him, my young friend, he is not worth any of your tears, not a single one.” He wipes away another when it manages to slip free too. “We’ll get you cleaned up and into warmer, dry clothing, we’ll get you all patched up, and then it’s off to bed.”

His young charge leans forward, his small hands pressing against his chest. “I can sleep with you?”

The Archangel nods, giving him a gentle smile, rubbing his thumb over his cheek lightly. “Yes, you can sleep with me.”

Little Joshua smiles, it’s a small smile, but the happiest one he’s seen in all the time they’ve been together. “Thanks, Raphael.”

He smiles at him softly. “Call me _‘Rapha’_ , little one, all my friends do.”

The boy giggles softly. “Okay, Rapha.” He curls his small hand over the Archangel’s large one resting over his cheek. “You can call me _‘Josh’_ , only daddy calls me Joshua.”

“Alright, little Josh,” he gently pulls his hand out from under the boy’s small one, curling his fingers around the tiny appendage. “How about we get into the water so we can get you cleaned up.”

They work quickly, the boy puts up no fight as he scrubs him clean and reaches up when they’re through. Obliging his request, he lifts the boy out of the water, curling his legs in front of him, he sets the little one in his lap as he dries him gently.

“And, this is the small child I’ve been hearing about?”

The boy shies away at the deep voice that calls out, wrapped in his towel, clutching the Healer’s hand to his small chest, pressing back into the Archangel’s chest fearfully. Raphael hums deeply, in an attempt to sooth the boy’s skittish nerves, and it works, if only just, as the grip on his fingers slowly begins to soften.

Another large man kneels in front of them, and Raphael pokes the boy on the nose, to gain his attention, smiling with bright green eyes look up at him. “This is Michael, he’s my older brother, he’s alright, he’s rather protective of little ones.”

“You are safe here, little one.” The other man, Michael’s deep voice intones, and Josh turns to look at him again. “No one shall hurt you here.”

The eldest produced a warm fledglings robe from inside the red cloak he wore, soft and warm, and holds it out to them, nodding for the boy to take it when his green eyes look up at him questioningly, and smiles when little fingers brush against his as the child takes the robe from his hand, then he produces an emerald belt for them, something of which Raphael snorts at, and Michael smiles cheekily. “I thought it appropriate, if the boy is to be your charge, it is your color after all.”

“Very poetic, Michael.”

Josh passes the little robe over when his friend holds out a hand for it, and Michael holds out his hands to help him up, smiling at the feeling of little fingers curling around his, he helps pull the boy to his feet gently. Raphael rises to his knees, pulling the small robe over the boy’s curly head, down over his shoulders, it falls to rest just under his knees, and he curls the belt around his waist, cinching it in place.

They watch the child rub his hands down his chest in amusement. “Like it, little one?”

The little one nods. “It’s really soft.”

He giggles when they chuckle softly, turning to step back into his friends arms, wrapping his arms around his neck. He doesn’t ask, but the Archangel curls his arm under him, as he rises to his feet, so Josh feels assured that it’s okay for him to want to be held.

Michael stands with them, rubbing his hands together. “So, what are you two getting into now?”

Raphael smiles, looking down at the boy perched on his arm, little Josh smiles at him, and rests his head against his chest. “We are going to get patched and up into bed.”

“That sounds like a plan, if I ever heard one.” The older Archangel presses a hand to the boy’s back gently. “It was nice meeting you, little one, I hope to see you again.”

The child turns to look up at him, offering a small smile. “It was nice to meet you too, Michael.”

He pats the boy’s cheek lightly. “Call me _‘Micha’_ , little one, all of my friends do.”

“Okay, Micha, you can call me _‘Josh’_.”

Michael smiles down at him. “As you wish, little Josh.”

…

Josh makes a face at the smell of the stuff Raphael rubs over his bruises, especially the one on his face, because it smells really yucky. The Archangel chuckles softly, sweeping the child off his feet, the little one giggles, curling his fingers in the sleeves of his friends robes. “It’s time for bed, little one.”

“I can still sleep with you?”

He smiles, offering the child a nod, and pulls him in close. “Yes, you can still sleep with me.”


End file.
